Leah Mordecai eBook

them, while I sit here to rest a moment. Here,
pour them into my apron.” Obeying this command,
Barbara emptied the contents into the large apron that
the mistress upheld to receive them, and she sat down
to the examination. One by one the papers fell
from her fingers to the floor as valueless trash,
and she pushed them with her foot toward the open fire-place.
Suddenly she descried upon the floor a dark brown paper,
loosely folded, that had fallen from her lap unobserved.
picking it up, she drew from it a small book, bound
in Russia leather, the size of a man’s hand.
Upon the outer cover, in dim, well-worn, and mold-covered
letters was the word “Journal.” “What
can this be?” she murmured curiously, holding
it tightly in her hand. Slowly unfastening the
slender clasp, she read with astonishment the words
written upon the first page: “Emile Le Grande’s
Diary.”

Amazed at what her eyes beheld, Rebecca hastily secreted
the book in her dress pocket and retired from the
room. Once securely out of sight, she eagerly
began her scrutiny of the ill-fated little book that
had fallen so mysteriously into her possession.
Record after record was read with greedy eye.
Soon her eye rested upon the name, “Leah Mordecai.”
No vulture ever devoured its unfortunate prey with
more rapacity that did this wicked woman the contents
that followed, day after day. Her eye gleamed
with delight, and her jewelled hands trembled for
joy, as she turned leaf after leaf of the unfortunate
book. At length she stopped suddenly, and exclaimed
half-wildly, “Aha! I know it now!
At last the truth has come to light, the terrible
mystery is revealed,” as she read the unfortunate
yet idle record of young Le Grande’s, made on
the night of Bertha Levy’s tea-party, the foolish
record: “If I knew that she loved Mark Abrams,
I would kill him.”

“You are mistaken, my bird,” Rebecca continued
to soliloquize; “he did not love Leah Mordecai
as fondly as you supposed, but you dared to kill him
from jealous hatred when you well knew you were destroying
the hopes and future of my child. Well, I’ll
see to it that revenge comes. My young eagle,
you are not so far away, but justice can find you.
Though the water of a dozen oceans rolled between
us, I think my revenge could reach you. Rest on
in your fancied security while you may, young villain;
the storm is gathering for your destruction.
Rest on. Rebecca Mordecai will never, never forget
you. I will keep this secret to myself till my
plans are matured; then I will act. Now, we must
fly, and then-well, never mind what then, so I keep
this treasure safe in my grasp.” So saying,
she stowed the journal away in her bosom, and with
a cruel laugh, busied herself again with her preparations
for departure. The removal was made. The
mansion of the banker was vacated, and the Queen City
left to the mercy of the spoiler. In all these
days of agitation and confusion, the little journal
lay safe in the bosom of its possessor. She intended
to have the way clear, before unfolding her secret
and her purpose. And so it was.